4: Jack - In The Pack (3 page)

Looking up, I watched as she slid her hands under her hair and lifted it off her neck. I pumped into her, thinking: this can’t be real, this can’t be real. Fuck, I came again.

Her thighs squeezed. Her inner muscles squeezed. It was better than I’d imagined in the elevator. I rammed up inside of her, held her down on my shaft while I exploded inside of her. All the time I looked up at the globular breasts, the underside of her chin...and wondered what she got paid for that.

Not enough, I can tell you for sure.

I wanted to pass out. I might have, in fact. But not for long. I swear to God, she got up, slithered back down between my legs, and, on all fours, like a dog--er, wolf--she licked me clean. Fucking had me hard again.

So, by now, I’m coming around. Whatever the hell was in that shake was damn good for the libido and inducing euphoria. Some type of freaking narcotic that got the juices flowing.

I swear, the girl looked half wild, half wolf, but I was blinking, my vision was blurry. I groaned, “You’re gonna kill me,” but it was a happy death I was seeing ahead of me.

“Mm.”

When I opened my eyes the next time, she was all woman again, and sucking me down one more time. Amazing more than anything, I got my rocks off again.

Normally, I’m into pleasuring a woman, so this was probably one of those hidden fantasies of mine. How they guessed on it, I don’t know--unless it’s every man’s fantasy, which it very well could be.

But maybe it’s every woman’s, too. I mean, to become insatiable, so alluring and sexy that I couldn’t turn her down. She had her way with me. There’s no doubt about that. I was a willing victim to that type of crime.

I’m not usually a guy that has a hard time turning away from temptation, but that shake, whatever was in it had stolen my reasoning and enhanced my natural instincts.

She came up off of me, swiping her mouth, her swollen, full lips with the back of her hand, her hair wildly spread all over her shoulders, trailing forward over her breasts--not covering the peaks. Her eyes flashed, and she asked, “How’d you like the shake?”

What could I say?

“It was good.” I think I was in a full-blown stupor. Literally.

Giselle smiled. “How do you like the way we treat our guests at Lobos?”

I let out a little laugh. “Can’t complain.”

Backing off of me, she reached for her shirt, pulled it on. I managed to sit up, work my pants’ closure. I thought, my cock will never be the same. Never.

She drew on her jacket, fluffed her silky hair over the collar and slid her feet back into her shoes. Licking her lips, she got up and said, “I better go see what’s keeping Hood.”

Again, she disappeared. I had time to sniff the shake glass, clear my head a little, and glance at my watch. Very little time had passed. Maybe thirty minutes.

Definitely a surreal time frame.

I wondered, what did they plan to top that off with?

Chapter One

I learned later that Giselle went straight from me to a lab on the next floor, to have my semen extracted and tested.

Hood arrived within a few moments of Giselle’s departure. I liked him immediately. I’m thinking the shake didn’t hurt my first impression. Everything was still a little rosy, if you know what I mean.

Hood didn’t fit any image of a bio-geneticist that I’d ever seen. Certainly not the profile of research scientist. He owned the place the minute he walked in.

Arrogantly assured, dominating in his body language, he came through the doors with purpose. I stood at the sound of the whoosh, and turned to meet him.

Wolverine from
X-Men
came to mind. Long sideburns, dark hair. Leashed tension, discerning eyes. It was the intensity of his gaze that had me, I think. He stared me down, looked into my soul, saw the champion in me--and smiled.

“You must be Jack.” He extended his hand.

I wanted to laugh. “You must be Hood.” I took his grip, and gave him a hard one.

No challenge between us, just a solid beginning. It felt honest.

His other hand came up, sort of wrapped around my back and he led me toward the furniture. I sat in a chair this time. He sat in the other chair. We both glanced toward the sofa and he wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say anything. Spying the empty shake glass, he seemed pleased. “So, did you like the shake?”

I watched him. Totally at ease with what they’d offered me. Waiting for me to bring it up.

“I’ve never had a protein shake like that before.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you had. What would you like to know about it?”

“You developed it? Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s supposed to do
what
?”

There was a certain sense of underlying humor in his expression when he replied, “Ah, we’re in trouble, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Build muscle?” I suggested that a little tongue in cheek.

He laughed, “And enhance libido. The two things that any good protein shake should do.”

“What else?”

Hood pursed his lips. I got the definite impression that he was assessing me. He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs, rubbed his hands together. “You know, this world is a little rough. We’re all under pressure. Governments control pretty much everything we do. Why, you can’t get a decent muscle relaxant in America these days, not without prescription. And that’s bullshit.”

I knew about that. Tri-athletes really put their bodies to the test. Sometimes after the race is over, we tighten up. Depending on where you are, you could be in deep shit, with no tension release available except alcohol.

Like I said before, I’m not into abusing my body with drugs or liquor, but I believe that there is a time and place, and medicinal use for mind and body relaxing substances. I try meditation a lot, but sometimes something more is worth trying. So, I’m not averse to relaxants, just wary of the shit they had in that damn shake. Though a part of me thought a fucking shit load of that could be delivered to my apartment and I’d be all right with that--but to endorse it for the public? I wasn’t so sure about that.

“That’s why travel is recommended these days.” I quipped it with a grin.

“It’s a good thing you like to travel. We have a great promotional tour lined up, if you sign. All expenses paid, of course.”

I leaned forward, too. “What are we talking here?”

“We have a few plans available. I’m sure one will suit your preference.”

“Lay ‘em on me.”

“Well, we have the full-scale world tour where you do the commercial spots.”

I narrowed my gaze on him. That would be endorsing the product to kids, doing television, print ads. I chewed on the inside of my cheeks. I could feel a slight problem with that coming on. And visions of kids, barely over puberty, fucking their brains out. I didn’t like that. My head started to shake before I’d really worked through why.

I believe sex is for grown-ups, plain and simple. If you’re not old enough to handle the consequences, be responsible, pay the price of error, then practice abstention. Funny, how you don’t work through morals until confronted with something that rubs you. No pun intended.

Already, I was thinking that I couldn’t endorse the product like that.

Hood skipped right to the next option. “We could really use you on our sales team--”

“I’m not really a salesman.”

“Come on, you have charisma. The public loves you. It would flatter our clients to no end if you showed up and set the folder introducing our product on their counter. I don’t think you’d have to say much. We can send others with you, so you can work as a team.”

Before I could protest, he held out a hand. “Giselle loves sales. She’s already agreed to travel with you, introduce you to our client list.”

That had me grinning. Talk about your hard-hitting sales pitches. How could I turn that down?

I leaned back. I had to give it some thought.

He rattled off some figures, other fringe benefits to the job.

By then, my brain had cleared. I assumed the effects of the Lobos shake were short-lived. I could see that the offer was too good to refuse. Basically, he told me that they could suit the final package to my preferences, what I was willing to do.

I asked, “Why me? I mean, there are other athletes vying for products.”

Hood half-laughed, leaning back, too. “Come on. There’s no other tri-athlete out there that has the image you do.”

“But you’re saying you’d take me behind the scenes. What good would that do?”

“You underestimate the underlying tapestry of business. Word of mouth is a powerful thing.”

“So you would put out a press release that I’m selling the product.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have to say anything officially.”

“But it would probably come out.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But, Jack, this product is gonna sell. Like hotdogs. Or peanuts at the circus. You can be on the top of the world, wallowing in the glories of free enterprise, or sitting on a tattered sofa somewhere, wondering why you didn’t lead the bandwagon. We’re asking you to be grand marshal in our parade.”

I’d been in too many parades, didn’t particularly like that analogy. And when push comes to shove, I’m my own man. You don’t get to the pinnacle of your sport if you aren’t. It’s what makes champions.

Unease crept into my psyche. The sales pitch was a little too straightforward, a little too intense. I felt like he didn’t plan on taking no for an answer. And I didn’t like that.

“I’ll tell you what. Let me mull it over.” I stood up.

“What is there to think about?”

I reached around my back, tucked my shirt in. He was doing the same thing. In some way, it sparked my funny bone. Two men, on opposite sides of the bargaining table, both posturing, both knowing that time was running out. I said, “I’m going to look through your client list, see who I’d be dealing with.”

He nodded, appeared to be thinking that over, didn’t seem to think that was a problem. We turned toward the door in unison. I felt like we’d come to a silent agreement, that I was likely not interested, that something wasn’t quite sitting right with me. What? I couldn’t put a finger on.

“You could do that.” He clapped me on the back. We headed toward the door. “Jack, I’d like to be friends with you. Lobos has some far-reaching plans and I really think you’re perfect for us. You just don’t know it yet.”

Our exit was interrupted by an intercom request for Hood to take a call. He asked me to wait for him. He picked up the extension in the room, said a few words, mostly, “That’s good. Uh-huh. Positive. Great. Thanks.” Click.

“Sounds like good news.” Making small talk, I waited for him to come with me to the door.

“Oh. Better than you can guess.” He moved toward me. “Do you know much about our business here?”

“Enough, I guess. I did a little homework.”

Again, he clapped me on the back and we headed out. Remember, I said the room was big. Lots of footage between the furniture and the door. Thick carpeting. We weren’t in any hurry. He was still working on the sell, and I was letting him give his final pitch.

He kind’ve held me up, the way his arm put pressure on, and he stopped walking. He asked, “What did you learn?”

I shrugged. “Oh, I dunno.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Did he want me to mention the stats on his company? Or what I’d learned about the way they do business once I’d arrived? Now,
there
was some homework.

Hood dropped his arm. I watched his jaw tighten and he asked, “We’d like you to join our team because you want to do business with us.”

Honestly, I said, “I know that you pride yourselves in good public policy, that you’re environmentally friendly--” That was important to me. I climb mountains. I run outdoors. I swim straits. I need the world to be a cleaner, safer place.

“We want our children’s children to have a good world.”

He was dead serious about that. I nodded. “That’s good. I think we all want that.”

I noticed, then, that Hood’s eyes were black, like the pupil had taken over the whole iris--which I could have sworn from commercials were gold. Maybe contact lenses? Not that it mattered. I thought, he’s too handsome to be a doctor of research. Visions of nerd scientists and all that. He looked like he had a fitness routine, too, and he was tall, like I was. Lean, as well.